What is this Dimensional Chat???

After the intense sparring session, the village of Tempest buzzed with excitement. Rimuru's people, eager to properly welcome Satria and his companions, worked tirelessly to prepare a grand feast in the village square.

Tables were lined with an abundance of food— juicy roasted meats, freshly baked bread, vibrant fruits, and steaming bowls of soup that filled the air with mouth-watering aromas.

But while the others dug in, Satria sat back, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

"Ugh… I saw this coming, so I'll pass."

Great Red raised an eyebrow. "Why? It's not a bad meal. Do you want me to feed you?"

Ophis, already on her twentieth plate, glanced up. "I agree with Baka-Red. The food is good. You should eat."

Rimuru, , standing nearby, blinked in surprise. His expression shifted to mild concern.

"Something wrong with my cooking, Satria? If there's something you don't like, let me know. I can have it fixed."

Gobta, ever the enthusiastic one, chimed in. "Yeah, yeah! Rimuru-sama's cooking is amazing! Try it first, Satria-sama! Oh, and can you teach me how to fight like you?!"

Satria sighed, rubbing his temple. "It's not that, but..."

Before he could finish, Fatalis gently placed a hand on his shoulder, stepping in to explain.

"Ah… No offense, but my husband is Muslim." She spoke with a calm, reassuring tone. "He can't eat pork. It's forbidden in his religion. I hope you all can understand."

The table fell silent for a moment as realization dawned.

Rimuru's eyes widened, his expression shifting from concern to understanding.

"Oh! I see! Thanks for letting me know, Fatalis." He gave Satria an apologetic smile. "We've got plenty of other dishes without pork—like roasted chicken, vegetable dishes, and some fish stew. Feel free to help yourself!"

Great Red, who had been quietly observing, smirked playfully and reached under the table, giving Satria's hand a gentle squeeze.

"Don't worry, Satria. I'll keep the pork away from you." She winked. "More for me, right?"

Satria chuckled and finally picked up his chopsticks, starting to eat. "Thanks, dear. Love you."

Fatalis smiled softly, pleased.

The light-hearted exchange caught the attention of a nearby guest—a burly dwarven blacksmith with a thick beard. He leaned forward, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.

"So, what's your story, friends? You come from another world, but what kind of place is it? And what's the deal between you and your lady companions?"

Satria paused mid-bite, then glanced at his wives with a soft expression. His voice, usually laced with sarcasm or bravado, now carried a rare depth.

"They are my family. Every time I sit alone, I think about them."

His grip on his utensils tightened slightly.

"I think about keeping them safe. Making sure they have a future. If you don't have that—if you don't have something to live and fight for—then you've got nothing."

His words carried weight. A warrior's creed.

"Ugh…"

A groan of pure frustration interrupted the moment.

Rimuru was sulking.

"He's a natural!" he whined internally. "No wonder women flock to him! Why am I still single?! Not fair!"

Shuna, ever the romantic, sighed dreamily.

"Satria-sama is so romantic… Facing danger side by side, overcoming obstacles together... It must be so nice to be treated like that by the person you love."

She turned to Rimuru, eyes twinkling.,

"Don't you think so, Rimuru-sama?"

The slime blinked, confused.

"Huh? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Shuna huffed, puffing her cheeks.

"Hmph! Baka Rimuru-sama!"

Fatalis smirked and turned to Satria. "You don't usually get all sentimental like that."

Ophis, meanwhile, was… crying.

"Wh-What is this? Why… my eyes?"

She blinked rapidly, trying to understand the foreign feeling swelling in her chest.

Satria grinned and ruffled her hair. "That, Ophis, is called emotion. You'll get used to it."

Even the mighty Great Red nodded in approval, a quiet respect in her gaze as she observed him.

'As I suspected, following him was not a mistake. He's a gold mine!'

Rimuru, , still reeling from Satria's surprisingly deep words, suddenly asked:

"Wait, hold on. How old are you, anyway?"

Satria smirked, leaning back confidently.

"As thanks for the banquet, I'll tell you my real age…"

A brief pause. Then—

"I'm seventeen."

Silence.

The entire table stared at him, dumbfounded.

"SEVENTEEN?!"

Rimuru felt like his entire sense of reality was crumbling. "No way. You're this strong, this mature, and still just seventeen?!"

Satria grinned wider. "I know, right? Still young, still got time to get stronger. Hehehe."

"Alright, next question then. What's your world like?" Benimaru wants to know the origin of this mysterious guest.

Satria set his utensils down. "Well… It's a world where humans are the dominant species. The same world your master came from before reincarnating."

The table grew silent again.

Shion furrowed her brow. "Wait… Rimuru-sama, you're reincarnated? This is the first time I've heard of this."

The ogres and other villagers turned to Rimuru, waiting for confirmation.

Rimuru winced, rubbing the back of his head.

"Oi!!! Don't spread my secrets like it's nothing!" He let out a heavy sigh. "Oh well… No point in hiding it now."

He glanced around the table, eyes momentarily clouded with nostalgia.

"Yeah… I was originally human. I came from a world without magic. Just technology."

Satria raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like my world, but…"

Rimuru gaze shifted to the dragons at the table.

"The fact that they exist means we're not from the same Earth. My world doesn't have dragons."

Great Red smirked. "Shame."

Ophis yawned. "Your world sounds boring."

Shion and the others were still processing the bombshell revelation about their leader.

"Wait, wait, wait—so you were originally just… a normal human?"

"...Yeah."

Gobta's eyes shined with admiration. "Then that means even a weakling like me has a chance to become strong like Satria and Rimuru-sama!"

Satria snickered. "Heh. Maybe. If you work hard."

Rimuru, meanwhile, felt a headache forming.

"Why do I feel like this conversation is only going to get crazier?"

Souei crossed his arms, his sharp mind already at work. "What are the differences between Rimuru-sama and Satria-sama's countries?" His tone was calm but curious. "Understanding each other's cultures could help us improve our way of life."

"You're right! I'm curious too!"

"Me too!"

"Please, Rimuru-sama! Tell us about your homeland!"

Rimuru smiled softly, leaning back on his hands. His gaze drifted up to the sky, his thoughts pulling him back to his past life. "Yeah… Japan… It's a little hard to describe, honestly. It's so different from here, but I'll try."

He took a moment before continuing, his voice taking on a nostalgic tone.

"Japan is a land of both ancient traditions and modern technology. You'll find centuries-old temples and shrines standing right next to massive skyscrapers. Tokyo, the capital, is always crowded—people rushing, lights flashing, trains running like clockwork. But then, there are the quieter places too—mountains, hot springs, forests—where you feel like you've stepped into another time."

As Rimuru painted the picture of his homeland, the listeners' eyes widened. Their imaginations brought to life the bustling cities and peaceful landscapes.

But then, as Rimuru turned t turned to Satria, he hesitated slightly. "As for your country… I know Japan well, but I don't know much about Indonesia. It's a small island country in Southeast Asia, right? Correct me if I'm wrong."

A heavy silence fell over the table.

Satria's face twitched. His lips parted slightly in disbelief, and then—

"My country is NOT SMALL!!!" His tantrum-like outburst made several people chuckle, unable to hold back their amusement at how quickly his attitude changed. "Why does everyone always say that?!"

Seeing his frustration, Fatalis placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, smiling knowingly. "Allow me to explain about my husband's country."

She turned to the intrigued crowd, her voice carrying pride.

"Indonesia is a nation of over seventeen thousand islands. It is one of the most diverse places on Earth, filled with different cultures, languages, and traditions. The people there have a strong spirit, shaped by their love for their land and their history of fighting for independence.

There are volcanoes, jungles, and beaches with waters as clear as the sky. The cities are lively and chaotic, yet full of warmth, while the villages are rich with the sound of traditional music and the scent of fresh spices."

"And the food…" She smirked. "Oh, the food is something else."

Her description alone had people salivating.

Then, her voice carried a newfound weight.

"Indonesia is actually five times larger than Japan, with a population of about 305 million people."

Silence.

Then—

"Seriously?! I never expected Indonesia to be that big…!" Rimuru and the others stared in shock. "How come we never hear much about it, then?"

Satria crossed his arms, pouting slightly. "Exactly! We're one of the biggest countries in the world, yet people always forget about us!" Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward, his voice turning serious. "We've been silent for too long. For too long, corrupt officials, foreign interests, and traitorous elites have held Indonesia back. But not anymore." His voice grew colder, sharper. "We are removing the traitors. The corrupt politicians. The radical extremists planted by foreign nations. The manipulative powers that only seek to divide us." His fist clenched. "In my world... Indonesia is no longer the world's plaything. We are reclaiming our destiny."

The weight of his words hung in the air. Even the seasoned warriors in the room felt the conviction in his voice.

Hakurou, ever the wise elder, stroked his beard thoughtfully. "To maintain unity among so many islands and people… That is no small feat." His gaze met Satria's, filled with a newfound respect. "Your homeland sounds like a formidable force."

Satria smirked, his confidence returning.

"Damn right it is."

Fatalis, who had been quietly listening, let out a sigh, her crimson eyes filled with understanding. "But such a change does not come without a price."

The table turned to her as she continued, her voice steady yet laced with a hint of bitterness.

"In my puppy world, Indonesia has become an enemy for some countries. Not because it has done wrong—but because it's refuse to be controlled. We are cutting out the rot, rebuilding our nation from within. And, of course… the so-called 'human rights organizations' and foreign powers especially warmongering woke western countries bastard are barking at us for it."

She scoffed. "They hate progress. After the new president and Satria's parents overthrew the previous government. The weak, corrupt regime they once manipulated was forcefully dismantled, and now, they can no longer pull the strings."

The room was deathly quiet.

Shion narrowed her eyes. "So… they'd rather see your country remain weak and divided?"

Satria smirked, but there was no humor in it—only cold understanding.

"That's how it's always been. They only cry about 'human rights' when it serves their interests. But when they invade, exploit, and destroy other nations? Suddenly, those rights don't matter. The world doesn't respect the weak. And we refuse to be weak anymore."

His words carried the weight of history, of struggle, of a people rising from the shadows to reclaim their honor.

Rimuru, usually cheerful and easygoing, found himself unable to respond right away. He had never thought about politics too deeply—not in his past life, nor in this one. But what Satria described wasn't just some abstract ideology. It was a battle for survival.

After a brief silence, Satria turned to Hakurou, a rare flicker of guilt crossing his face.

"Old man, I apologize for hurting you earlier. Are you alright? If any part of your body is still injured, let me know. I'm very confident in my healing skills, you know?"

His self-assured grin earned a chuckle from Hakurou.

"Hahaha! Please, young man. I am a warrior. I am always ready to face anything—even death. But… I appreciate your concern."

His gaze lingered on Satria for a moment before he spoke again.

"You are an interesting one. Strong, stubborn, and filled with fire. Yes… You are someone our master will need on his journey."

Rimuru, who had been watching the exchange in silence, let out a sigh.

"Man… Between Satria and Hakurou, I feel like I'm the weakest person here."

The table erupted into laughter.

But deep down, Rimuru knew—

Satria was no ordinary traveler. He was a warrior, a leader, and perhaps… even a king in the making.

Satria exhaled in relief, nodding. "Good to hear that. Indeed, unity is not just about military strength or power. What truly binds us together as a nation is something much deeper—a shared belief in a national philosophy called Pancasila."

Rimuru tilted his head slightly, curiosity flickering in his golden eyes. "Pancasila? What's that?"

Satria's expression softened, his voice carrying a quiet reverence. "Pancasila is the foundational philosophy of Indonesia—the guiding principles that hold our nation together. It consists of five core tenets that serve as a moral compass for our people: belief in one supreme God, a just and civilized humanity, the unity of Indonesia, democracy guided by inner wisdom, and social justice for all Indonesians."

The villagers and leaders of Tempest listened in respectful silence, absorbing the significance of these principles.

Rimuru's expression turned contemplative. "That sounds... impressive. It's not just about strength or power but about values that bring people together."

Shuna clasped her hands, her pink eyes shining with admiration. "It's beautiful. A philosophy that emphasizes unity and justice… It almost sounds like something we could use as a foundation here in Tempest."

Satria nodded, appreciating her sincerity. "Pancasila has helped Indonesia maintain harmony among many different cultures, languages, and ethnicities. It reminds us that despite our differences, we are one nation, striving toward the same ideals."

Benimaru, always focused on the practical side of things, leaned in with interest. "So, you're saying that Pancasila helped your country thrive, even with so many different groups of people?"

"Yes," Satria replied, his gaze steady. "Indonesia's diversity could have been a source of division and endless conflict. But Pancasila provided a framework that encouraged mutual respect and understanding. It gave us a purpose beyond ourselves—a reminder that we must work together for the greater good."

Rimuru exchanged glances with his gathered allies, his lips curving into a thoughtful smile. "You know, Satria, that kind of philosophy does seem fitting for what we're trying to build here in Tempest. A place where people from all races and backgrounds can come together and live in peace."

Hakurou stroked his beard in agreement. "Indeed. If we adopt a mindset that values unity and justice, it will strengthen our bonds and solidify our purpose as a nation."

Satria looked around the table, observing the faces of warriors, leaders, and villagers alike. "It's true that Pancasila was created for my people, but its spirit—unity, justice, and the pursuit of a better future—can resonate anywhere. You are building something special here, Rimuru. A place where people can find hope, just as my people found hope in their ideals."

Rimuru's grin widened, his determination burning brighter. "Thanks, Satria. I think we can learn a lot from what you've shared. We'll use those ideas to help guide Tempest's growth, especially as we prepare for the battle against the Orc Lord."

Shion raised her glass high, her voice ringing out with enthusiasm. "To Tempest! And to Satria and his family, for sharing the wisdom of his homeland with us!"

The gathered villagers and leaders cheered, raising their glasses in unison. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the village, Rimuru felt a renewed sense of purpose. With allies like Satria by his side and the ideals of unity and justice guiding them, he knew they could face whatever trials lay ahead.

Satria watched the celebration unfold, a rare, genuine smile gracing his lips. In this new world, far from the shores of Indonesia, he had found a place that shared his values—a place worth protecting.

•

As the night deepened, Satria turned to Rimuru with a request that carried a quiet sincerity.

"Rimuru, I hope this isn't too much to ask, but could you show me a quiet spot where I can pray?"

Rimuru tilted his head, his usual curiosity sparking.

"Pray? I've seen people meditate, but I don't think I've ever seen what you mean by prayer. What exactly do you need?"

Satria smiled, appreciating his openness.

"It's a bit different from meditation. It involves specific movements and recitations. It's a way for me to connect with my Creator and find peace."

"If there's a clean, quiet place facing east, that would be perfect."

Rimuru thought f thought for a moment before nodding.

"I think I know just the spot. Follow me."

Rimuru l led him to a peaceful garden nestled within the village—a traditional Japanese-style area with a warmly lit wooden pavilion. The scent of wildflowers carried in the breeze, and beyond the garden, the forests of Tempest stretched endlessly, bathed in the hues of the setting sun.

"This should do, right?" Rimuru asked.

Satria gazed at the tranquil surroundings and nodded gratefully.

"Yes, this is perfect. Thank you, Rimuru."

Reaching into his belongings, Satria pulled out a small cloth—his makeshift prayer mat—and gently laid it on the ground.

"Mind if I watch?"

Rimuru's casual question made Satria pause. He glanced around and realized that the goblins and hobgoblins nearby had also taken notice, their curious eyes peeking from a respectful distance.

He hesitated for a moment, then let out a soft chuckle.

"Sure. Just keep in mind, this isn't a performance. It's something sacred to me."

The goblins and hobgoblins nodded, whispering among themselves, eager to witness something they had never seen before.

Satria stood tall, facing east.

He lifted his hands beside his ears and began his prayer.

The goblins fell silent as they watched the fluidity of his movements—the way he bowed, knelt, and prostrated, his forehead touching the ground in an act of humility.

A few hobgoblins, intrigued, tried to mimic his movements but quickly realized it was harder than it looked.

Rimuru, arms crossed, observed with genuine fascination.

Even though he couldn't understand the words, he felt the weight of each motion.

The rhythmic recitations, the deep focus in Satria's posture—it was as if a calm aura had settled over the area, gently drawing in everyone who watched.

For a brief moment, the monsters of Tempest felt something unfamiliar.

Serenity.

As Satria finished his prayer, he sat down, meeting the curious gazes of the goblins and hobgoblins.

One of the younger goblins, eyes wide with wonder, blurted out the question everyone was thinking.

"What were you saying? And why do you do those movements?"

Satria smiled, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.

"The words I recite are praises to Allah, the One who created everything."

"The movements are a way of showing respect, humility, and devotion."

"It reminds me to stay humble, to seek guidance, and to stay strong—even when things are difficult."

Rimuru, , arms still crossed, nodded slowly.

"So, it's like a ritual to connect with a higher being?"

"That's… different from the magic and meditation we know here. But I can see how much it means to you."

Satria nodded back.

"Yes, exactly."

"Just like you strive to protect Tempest and its people, this is how I strive to keep my heart and mind clear."

"It reminds me not to lose myself, no matter how strong I become."

A hobgoblin hesitated before asking,

"It sounds… peaceful. Can anyone do it?"

Satria paused thoughtfully. "Anyone who seeks a connection with their Creator can pray."

"But Salat is a special practice for Muslims—those who follow Islam."

"It's our way of staying close to our faith, even when we're far from home."

Rimuru's lips curled into a small smile.

"Well, Tempest is your ally now."

"And this can be your home, too."

Satria looked at him in surprise, but Rimuru s simply shrugged.

"As long as you're here, you're free to practice your prayers whenever you need."

Then, with a sly grin, he added,

"And who knows? Maybe some of us might join you one day… if only to understand better."

The goblins chuckled, and even the hobgoblins gave small nods of approval.

Satria let out a warm laugh.

As the stars began to glow above Tempest, a new understanding had been formed—one that bridged worlds, beliefs, and friendships.

And for the first time in a long while, Satria felt truly at home.

•

The night stretched peacefully over Tempest, the stars casting a gentle glow over the village. On the balcony of their temporary lodging, three mighty dragons—Fatalis, Ophis, and Great Red—sat together, their powerful forms seemingly at ease in the tranquil atmosphere.

They weren't just warriors or ancient beings tonight.

Tonight, they were simply waiting for someone.

And then, the door creaked open.

Satria entered, his gaze sharp yet carrying the weight of unspoken thoughts.

Fatalis immediately grinned, leaning forward with a teasing glint in her eyes.

"Welcome back, Sultan. So... are you ready to build the Tempest Sultanate?"

Satria let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head.

"Really? Nope. Not happening." He walked past her, stretching his arms as he let out a tired groan. "I have no intention of becoming something like that. I just want to live peacefully."

He plopped down onto a chair, staring up at the night sky as a cool breeze rustled through the trees.

"Living is strange… How did I go from a professional gamer and an ordinary university student to this?"

His voice was thoughtful, but there was a flicker of frustration behind it.

"I've spent my whole life avoiding politics, you know? I love my freedom. I don't want to deal with all the snakes waiting to stab me in the back."

His hands clenched slightly as memories of treacherous bastards he and his family had encountered flashed in his mind.

It was hard enough dealing with power struggles in one world.

Now, he was in another world where strength determined the balance of power.

And yet, no matter the world, deception always thrived.

Satria reached into his belongings, pulling out a cigar—something he rarely indulged in, but tonight, he felt like he needed something strong.

He stepped out onto the balcony, taking in the breathtaking view.

The air was pure, unpolluted by the burning of fossil fuels or the toxins of industry.

Above him, the sky stretched endlessly, unmarred by city lights, allowing the stars to shine in their full glory.

He lit his cigar, inhaling deeply before exhaling a slow stream of smoke.

For a moment, he simply existed—just a man looking at the stars, wondering what his life would become.

Great Red soon joined him, gracefully placing a cup of tea beside him.

Her vivid red hair with red yukata caught the moonlight, making her look almost ethereal.

She nudged him gently.

"You've been quiet tonight, boy. What's on your mind?"

Fatalis wasted no time sliding closer, cuddling up to his side like a cat claiming its territory.

"I want to know too."

Satria glanced at both of them before chuckling softly.

"You two sure are clingy tonight."

He took another drag from his cigar, then sighed as he looked out over Tempest.

"I guess… I just don't know what my path is anymore. Every time I think I have an answer, something changes. Am I supposed to lead? Am I supposed to fight? Or am I just another piece in someone else's game?"

The weight of destiny, power, and responsibility pressed against him.

He had fought, conquered, and built bonds stronger than steel…

And yet, here he was, still searching for something.

Ophis, who had been sitting quietly nearby, opened her eyes.

"The future is unknown. But your will shapes it." Her voice, quiet yet absolute, cut through his doubts.

Great Red smirked, sipping her tea.

"Heh, that's just a fancy way of saying, 'You'll figure it out.'"

Satria chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little.

He looked at his mates, these powerful beings who had chosen to follow him.

Even when he didn't have all the answers… he wasn't alone.

He took one last drag from his cigar before flicking the ashes away.

Satria sighed, leaning against the balcony railing, his eyes drifting over Tempest's peaceful landscape. The town Rimuru had built was interesting—a world of unity among different races and cultures.

Yet, despite the warmth of this place, an unease lingered in his heart.

"It's just... all of this is so new, you know?" His voice was quiet, reflective. "Magic, different races, the way people think here—everything is different from what I knew. I keep wondering how I'm supposed to fit in." His fingers are idly tapped against the railing. "And then... with everything that's changed, I think about my faith—about Islam. I wonder if it even matters here. Is this the right thing to introduce to them? Will it even make sense in this world?"

Fatalis, lounging beside him, tilted her head thoughtfully.

"Faith is important to you, isn't it?" Her scarlet eyes studied him with curiosity. "It's part of who you are. But if you're wondering how it fits here... well, that's a different question. How do you think your beliefs might influence this world?"

Satria let out a slow breath, considering her words.

"I've thought about it a lot. Islam teaches peace, understanding, and kindness. But it's also about discipline—about rules that guide how I live. Like what I can eat, how I pray, how I treat others." His gaze lifted toward the sky, the stars shimmering above them. "It's more than just belief—it's a way of life. Back home, in Indonesia, Islam blended with local customs. People respected each other's traditions, even if they didn't share them. That balance is what made it feel natural."

Great Red listened, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. "So you think the version of religion you know from your homeland could work here? With all these different creatures, cultures, and ways of thinking?" Her teasing smirk faded into curiosity. "It surprises me, you know? Someone as strong as you worshiping something called God."

Satria chuckled softly at her honesty. "I've seen and read all the religions in my world, but none of them resonated with me the way Islam did."

His voice held a quiet conviction, but there was also a hint of self-awareness.

"Islam is tough. Its rules are strict, unlike any other religion I know. That's why many people can't accept it. They try to change it from within or attack it from the outside."

He exhaled slowly, shaking his head.

"And honestly? Even I can't fully practice its teachings the way I should. I'm far from perfect."

His gaze drifted toward the town below, watching the warm lights of Tempest flicker in the distance.

"I make mistakes. I do things that go against what I believe in. But that's part of being human, isn't it?"

There was a moment of silence before another voice joined in.

"But at the same time, religion has been used as a tool for war and greed."

Ophis, who had been standing quietly nearby, finally spoke.

"People claim to fight for faith, but too often, it's just an excuse for power."

Her eyes held an unreadable depth.

"That's what made me question everything at first."

She took a step forward, her voice steady, yet carrying a weight of experience far beyond what her youthful appearance suggested.

"They speak of free will—gifted as a treasure—but what is freedom when it comes wrapped in chains?"

Satria raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Oh? Please, continue."

He turned to her fully, folding his arms.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to get mad. It's rare for you to share your thoughts, Ophis. I want to hear them."

She studied him for a moment, as if deciding whether he was truly open to this conversation. Then, she spoke.

"God is said to be all-powerful. Yet suffering exists. Why? They say He is merciful, yet wars have been fought in His name. Blood has been spilled for centuries, all while people claim it is His will."

Her gaze was piercing now, challenging.

"And you... You died. You lost everything, yet here you are, still believing."

She tilted her head slightly.

"Why?"

The night wind stirred, rustling the leaves of the trees below.

Satria closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

Then, he smiled.

"You're right."

His honesty caught both Great Red and Ophis slightly off guard.

"Wars have been fought in the name of religion. Power-hungry men have twisted faith into a weapon for their own gain. Even now, people use belief as an excuse to justify their own selfish desires."

He looked at Ophis directly, his gaze unwavering.

"But that doesn't mean faith itself is wrong. It means people are flawed."

His fingers tapped lightly against the wooden railing.

"Why do I still believe? Because faith isn't about demanding an easy life. It's about finding strength even when life is hard."

His voice was calm, steady.

"Suffering exists, but so does kindness. Wars happen, but so does love. People do terrible things in the name of God, but people also do good because of their faith. The world isn't perfect. It never will be. But that doesn't mean faith is meaningless."

He took a deep breath before finishing.

"And as for me? I don't worship God because I expect Him to solve my problems. I worship because, even in the darkest moments, He gives me the strength to stand back up."

Ophis was silent, her expression unreadable.

Fatalis, watching the exchange, smirked.

"Heh. You've really thought about this, huh?"

Satria chuckled.

"When you've died once, you think about a lot of things."

Ophis finally sighed, crossing her arms.

"...I still don't fully understand."

"You don't have to," Satria replied. "Faith isn't about forcing others to believe—it's about living by example. If people see strength in it, they'll come to understand in their own way."

For the first time that night, Ophis gave a small, thoughtful nod.

"Hmph... I suppose that's fair."

The tension in the air softened.

Great Red stretched her arms behind her head, grinning.

"Well, that got deep real fast. I was just teasing you about religion, and now we're talking about the meaning of life."

Fatalis reached out, squeezing Satria's hand gently, her scarlet eyes filled with warmth.

"You are truly the same as your ancestors, Satria."

Her voice was softer now, carrying a deep admiration.

"If you believe in a version of your faith that respects others and is willing to adapt, then I think you'll find a way to make it work here too. And I'll be right here beside you, helping you figure it out."

Satria's tense shoulders relaxed, a small, genuine smile returning to his face.

"Thank you, dear."

Without hesitation, he pulled her into a warm embrace, holding her close.

"I know this world is overwhelming for both of us, but with you all here, I feel like I can keep being myself—even if everything else is different."

She chuckled, resting her head against his chest.

"You're not alone, Satria. You never were."

Just then, a familiar presence made itself known.

Leaning casually against the doorway, Rimuru watched t watched them with an amused yet thoughtful expression. His arms were crossed, and his usual playful grin softened into something more sincere.

"You know, Satria, this world could use a bit of that kind of thinking."

Satria and Fatalis turned to face him as Rimuru stepped forward.

Rimuru is dressed in a light-colored yukata, which gives off a traditional and elegant vibe.

The yukata features small goldfish patterns, adding a playful and summery charm.

He has an incredibly adorable and heartwarming smile, with eyes closed in pure joy. The expression radiates happiness and contentment, making it look like they're enjoying a peaceful or affectionate moment.

"If you can bring that spirit of tolerance and balance, I think you'll fit in just fine."

He gestured toward the town below, where various races—goblins, orcs, kijin, lizardmen, and more—lived together in harmony.

"Here in Tempest, we're all learning how to live together, no matter where we came from or what we believe. Your faith, your way of life—it's another thread in this tapestry we're weaving."

Satria exhaled, processing Rimuru's words.

It wasn't just about faith. It was about finding a place where he could belong without losing himself.

He met Rimuru's gaze and nodded.

"Thanks, Rimuru. I'll do my best. Maybe… maybe one day, I can share a bit of what my faith means to me, just like you've shared your stories about Japan."

Rimuru grinned, giving a thumbs-up.

"That's the spirit. We're all from different worlds here, but that's what makes us stronger together."

As they stood together under the moonlight, Satria felt something shift within him.

Hope.

He still didn't know what the future held, but he knew one thing for certain—

With the support of his family, the acceptance of new friends, and the freedom to stay true to his roots, he would carve his own path in this world.

Not as a conqueror.

Not as a ruler.

But as himself.

To be continued…